


The things we want the most

by bryonyashley



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Illya plays hard to get, M/M, did i say fluff already?, follow up fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 01:24:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10400607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryonyashley/pseuds/bryonyashley
Summary: Follow-Up fic to"The Seduction of a Red Peril".Illya disappear without saying a word right after taking his room key, and Gaby gestures to Napoleon as if asking “What‘s going on?”“You better show up at dinner with Illya because I’m tired of playing mother with you two lovebirds.” declares Gaby while they are on the elevator.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As always a huge thank you to [RileyC](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC) for beta reading and encouraging me. <3

 

Illya is worn out and he is trying to sleep in the backseat of the car, while Napoleon is driving to Calais. He looks at Illya in the rearview mirror, and he finds it somehow endearing the way the Russian is struggling to find a spot where to stretch his long legs.  

In Calais they promptly get aboard the powerboat.  Waverly, Illya and two enforcement agents talk a bit about what’s gone wrong and exchange information, while Gaby and Napoleon sit in the opposite corner of the cabin.  “So… you and Illya,” Gaby throws a glare full of unresolved questions to Napoleon “what’s going on between the two of you.”

Napoleon sighs. “Can we talk about this later?  I need to rest my eyes.”

“I just want to be sure you are not messing with him. You wouldn't do that, would you? I mean, I knew about.. your _preferences_..” she says warily “but Illya…”

“Are you jealous?” insinuates Napoleon with a lighthearted tone.   

“Solo!“ exclaims Gaby then she lowers her voice “Don’t even try.  Me and Illya…we are just friends.“

He lets out a defeated breathe _._  “Look, whatever your little plotting head is thinking, I am not messing with Illya.  Do you mind? ” he adds, resting his head on the back of the armchair. Gaby stays silent, probably deciding to believe him.

He closes his eyes and pretends to sleep but he thinks about Illya and how his gaze has been shifting away from Napoleon’s searching one, shutting him out _,_ since getting aboard _._ This is all your fault, Illya had said. _M_ _aybe he thinks I'm messing with him_ _too._

In the end he really does fall asleep and when Gaby wakes him they are already in Dover. They all get in a van, and Waverly drives them to Maidstones, to a little hotel where apparently they will stay for a couple of days, top floor reserved to them. Illya disappear without saying a word right after taking his room key, and Gaby gestures to Napoleon as if asking “What‘s going on?”

“You better show up at dinner with Illya because I’m tired of playing mother with you two lovebirds.” declares Gaby while they are on the elevator.

“Yes,  Mom.” Napoleon nods and smiles at her fondly before she disappears into her room.  He reaches his door and he is tempted to knock at Illya’s, which is just after its own, but thinks better of it as they are all tired and Illya clearly wants to be left alone.

In the afternoon, Illya has just finished writing his report, words still heavy on his mind, when Napoleon knocks at his door. Shirt unbuttoned, rolled up sleeves, looking relaxed and smiling at him in a way that makes Illya’s heart race. He sighs with annoyance at his own predictability and steps back to let him enter. "Drink?" he suggests.

Napoleon nods, looking around, seeing the papers on the desk. “Problems with Waverly?” he asks.

“No, not really.” answers Illya handing him a glass of whisky  “About… what’s happened between us in the garage…” he starts, a uneasy look in his eyes.

“What about it.” murmurs Napoleon, sipping his drink and _damn,_ he dreaded that Peril was changing his mind.

“We shouldn’t…it’s wrong.  I don't want complications!" exclaims Illya, and Napoleon can see the frustration rising in him.

"You don't want _…complications._ But I guess it would be perfectly fine for you to have... _complications_...with Gaby?" ask Napoleon, and it hurts to think about that.

"No! I didn’t _really_ try …nothing has happened between us.” replies Illya, facing Napoleon, emotions flooding him “I didn't think you were... _interested_. That's not what your file says. That’s not what you do. You …are always on honeypot missions." he adds, almost with an accusatory tone.

“Point taken.”concurs Napoleon, looking down, pondering.   “What now? What does your “no complications” plan consist of?” he says, slowly closing the space between them.  ”Do  you think we can just forget and get back being …what, exactly? Enemies? Friendly colleagues?” He puts his glass down on the drinks cupboard behind Illya, placing his hands in each side, cornering him against it.  "Do you really think what we feel it’s wrong? Or, maybe, you are afraid i was just playing with you in Bruges, Peril, because, no.  It’s not like that. I care about you, you should know this by now." His voice is quiet, eyes bored into Illya's _,_ trying to pour all his feelings into his words.

Illya was trying hard to keep is body from reacting to his words, to the warmth Napoleon’s body was radiating between them, and failing because Napoleon can get under his skin like no one else and he is always _pushing him_ , pushing him to respond and he is also making him feel _alive_ because of that. He was not a KGB killing machine anymore, feelings buried inside until they explode with anger. He can let these feelings flow, even the most frightening ones. Frightening like love. He suddenly realizes Napoleon is backing away from him, looking downhearted.

“Don’t!” exclaims Illya grabbing hold of Napoleon’s shirt, pulling him closer _._ “I don’t want to forget,” he says, hungry eyes on him. “I want more.”  

Napoleon looks a bit dazed at first, then he just tilt his head up to Illya reaching almost blindly for his lips, grabbing his neck and kissing him fiercely. “You better be sure of that. _.”_ he say a bit breathless when they part, watching fascinated at Illya licking his damp red lips,” because I’m going to give you what you want. Now.” he adds, gently biting his neck and all Illya can do is just groan at that.

At dinner there’s an awkward silence at the table _._ Napoleon looks a bit smug, Illya eats absent  - mindedly and Gaby, a glass of wine in her hand, looks back and forth between them like she's watching a tennis match.  “Are you guys going to be always like this now? Because you are boring the hell out of me. Yes, even you, Solo. _“_ she sighs.

Illya chuckles.

“I thought I was doing  well.” Napoleon replies, and of course he is smirking.

“How about we go dancing tonight?” blurts out Illya, and Gaby almost chokes on her wine at that. 

Napoleon throws an amused look at Illya but he knows he is trying to lighten up Gaby’s mood, they are a team after all, and he can live with that.

 


End file.
